


Day Two: Scratching Each Other's Backs

by dee_double_u



Series: Klaine Week 2013 [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Blackmail, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dee_double_u/pseuds/dee_double_u





	Day Two: Scratching Each Other's Backs

Blaine took the last drag off of his cigarette, flicking it out into the yard and stomping it out. He looked up at the brick building, with the words William McKinley High School on the front. This…sucked, frankly. It wasn’t his fault that asshole decided to try and steal his wallet. It was self defense! But, according to the courts, it was assault, so here he was, at a new public school, with a new life, and a shiny court order to stay away from Dalton Academy. Great, he can frame it with the other two orders.  
  
“There’s no smoking on the grounds,” he heard a voice say sharply behind him, and he turned around to see a boy with coiffed brown hair, of medium build, with rather stylish clothes. Though the look on his face made him look like he’d never been laid before.  
  
“Um, who are you and why are you bitching at me about one cigarette?”  
  
He sniffed, wincing. “Kurt Hummel. You’re outside the Glee club’s window, and I can’t focus on perfecting my voice if you keep smoking outside.”  
  
Blaine gave him a deadpan look. “First of all, that window is at least five feet up, shortstack. There is no way you could smell my smoke, because when I went on a tour of the school, I saw you singing, and you stand in the first row, about…ten feet from the window. You’re full of shit.”  
  
He just stared at him, then huffed and turned on his designer heel, stomping off. Blaine snorted, rolling his eyes and shouldering his backpack and walking into the building. If all the students at McKinley were as bad as this Kurt snob, he would cause trouble just to get out of here.  
  
Blaine went through his classes, suffering until lunch. “Finally,” he muttered, pulling his backpack on. He ignored a side eye from the teacher, skipping the lunchroom and walking off to the quad, finding a secluded corner. Blaine plopped his backpack down, digging out a roach from his backpack. “Yes,” he said, lighting it up and taking a drag, leaning back and exhaling.   
  
“Are you kidding me?!” He heard, and quickly tried to stomp it out (sadly, because that was good weed), but not before he saw the same stylish brown shoes.   
  
“Fuck,” he muttered, looking up into angry blue eyes. Gorgeous, but angry.  
  
“You’re smoking again? Like, do you just follow me around and smoke where I a-oh,” he said, realization dawning on his face when he saw the small cigarette. “You were…you were smoking pot,” he said, and Blaine scrambled up and shushed him.  
  
“What, do you want everyone to hear you? Shut the hell up,” he said, but stepped back.  
  
“You can’t tell me what to do right now,” Kurt said, turning and storming off. “Just wait until Principal Figgins hears-”  
  
Blaine grabbed her arm, spinning him around. “You better not say a goddamned word, Hummel.” He just tugged his arm away, storming off. For the first time in a while, Blaine felt nervous.

_________________________________

  
“Oh my god, Rachel, for the last time, I’m not flat!” Kurt almost screamed, nearly smacking her with his binder. That girl would be the death of him-and possibly herself.  
  
Rachel did her famous huff, crossing her arms. “Well, someone sure as heck is,” she said, turning her nose up. “It’s not me, so don’t even think about saying it.”  
  
“No,” came a sassy, sarcastic voice from the back. “What we need is another member.” Santana poked her head up from filing her nails. “Look, Keebler Elf and Elton Jon. It’s not that any of us can’t sing, we all know I’m amazing. We need another voice to balance everything.”  
  
Kurt and Rachel looked at each other, sighing when they realized that she was right. Ever since Sam had moved, they were short a voice. “I think I can recruit someone,” Kurt replied, sighing internally. He didn’t want to talk to him again, ever, but in this case, he had to.  
  
After class, he crept out to where he figured he was hiding, and sure enough, Blaine was leaning against the wall by the Glee club’s window. “You guys sucked in there,” he said, flicking his cigarette at her.  
  
“And you smell like street rat and cigarette smoke,” he retorted. “I came here with a deal, and if I were you, I’d accept it.”   
  
He gave her a look, but he continued anyway. “I won’t tell Figgins about the pot,” he said, and smirked at his slight look of relief. “If you do something for me.”  
  
“Shoot,” he said, leaning back. “I can do your homework if you need. I don’t want you to have to reach the top of your locker and strain yourself.”   
  
Kurt rolled his eyes, staring him down. “Join Glee.”  
  
Blaine looked confused for a minute, then doubled over laughing, nearly dropping his drink. “Are you insane?! Join Glee. You want me to join that freak parade of a club?”  
  
He smirked, crossing his arms. “You know, I did some research on you, Anderson.” He ignored Blaine’s eyeroll, continuing. “You transferred here after you got kicked out of Dalton Academy for assault, and you left two more schools before that. You refuse to quit all the distasteful things you do, even if it means costing you an education.”  
  
Blaine swallowed, looking over his shoulder at nothing, just to keep from looking at him. “Bullshit. It was only one school before.”  
  
“Either way,” he interrupted, “you can’t afford to get kicked out of another school. Otherwise, you’re going to a reform school. Now, are you going to join this club, or am I going to have to escort you out?”  
  
He licked his lips, picking up his backpack. “How do you even know I can sing, huh? For all you know I could sound as flat as a busted tire.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow, and he sighed. “Okay, fine, I can sing. I’ll…join your stupid club.”  
  
“Great!” he said, cheery as if he hadn’t just been coercing him into joining. “See you tomorrow for practice, Blaine.” He skipped away, and Blaine sighed, running his hand through his hair. “What in the hell did I get myself into…”

________________________________

  
Blaine wandered into the classroom, hands in the pocket of his leather jacket. This was the worst idea ever, he surmised, looking away as everyone turned to look at him. “Everyone,” Rachel said, standing up, “meet the newest member of our club, Blaine Anderson.”  
  
Kurt turned his nose up, trying not to stare. But….damn that jacket looked really good on him. Those eyes….and those arms…  
  
“….and we will welcome him in gladly,” Mr. Shue said, and Kurt snapped back to reality. This might be a problem. “So, Mr. Anderson, do you have anything you could sing for us, to demonstrate?”  
  
Blaine smirked, raising an eyebrow and walking over, sliding a CD into the player. He pressed play, then went into a rendition of “Killer Queen” that ended up having everyone on their feet, clapping and amazed. Kurt, however, didn’t stand up, or move. He just stared, watching with eager eyes and an even more eager…uhm, never mind. Let’s just say he’s going to have to take a long, cold shower later.  
  
After the song everyone clapped, and Mr. Shue officially welcomed Blaine into the club. Practice went off well, and every so often, Blaine would sneak glances at Kurt, trying to see how someone so annoying could be so hot at the same time.  
  
Afterward, Blaine wandered up to him, looking over his body real quick before looking back up. “So, Hummel, what did you think? You apparently have good taste in music.”  
  
Kurt sighed, looking up. “Okay, you did an amazing job on Killer Queen, I admit. And of course I have good taste.”  
Blaine nodded, leaning against the piano. “Well, you would have even better taste if you came out with me tonight. We can grab a bite to eat, a couple drinks…”  
  
“You’re asking me out,” Kurt asked, eyes wide. “Are you kidding? Why should I go out with you? You’re stuck up, a bad influence, rude…”  
  
“But you kept staring at me,” Blaine finished. “C’mon. I joined this club, you can come out with me. I don’t bite.”  
  
Kurt sighed, then after some thought, wrote is address down and handed it to Blaine. “There. Pick me up at eight sharp.”  
  
Later that night, Blaine had Kurt in his car, driving off. “Well, what do you want to do, skipper?”  
  
“Well, we can’t get booze anywhere in here, so your place?”  
  
Blaine grinned, driving a little further out until he finally stopped, pulling up to a colonial style house. “Oh my god, it’s gorgeous,” he said, gasping and getting out.   
  
“It’s nothing,” Blaine said, not mentioning that he usually spent all his time here alone. He walked up, Kurt in tow as he unlocked the door and flipped the lights on. “Take a seat, I’ll get us a couple of drinks. “ He tossed his keys into the bowl on the end table, going into the kitchen and pouring  a couple of drinks.   
  
Kurt sat down, biting his lip. Everything looked so…amazing. Blaine was so lucky…”Thanks,” he said, taking the drink and sipping it, smiling at the fruity taste. “You’re pretty good at making a drink,” he said, smiling a little. Blaine just shrugged, taking a swig of his own drink.  
  
“Thanks,” Blaine said. He looked around, sighing a little. “Look…I’m sorry I was so mean to you. It’s just…a defense mechanism, I guess. I’m really not that bad of a person…”  
  
“I know,” Kurt said, leaning forward. “If you were that bad of a person, you wouldn’t have cared if I told Figgins about the weed. And you wouldn’t have actually showed up to Glee today. What happened,” Kurt asked gently.  
  
Blaine swallowed, looking down. “Um, at Dalton someone tried to steal my wallet. I caught him, and he took a swing, so I swung back and beat him up. I got a reputation for being a tough ass, and it was easier than being a wimp, so that’s what I kept up.” He’d never been this open, but no one had ever actually asked before, either.  
  
“Well,” Kurt said, biting his lip and smiling. “I think that you’re just a victim of circumstance, Blaine, and I don’t think you have to act out as much as you think you do.” Kurt looked at him, biting his lip. “And…if you’ll let me, I think I can help you out, get your image back up.”

  
Blaine smiled a little, a genuine smile. “I’d…I’d like that, Kurt.” He paused, looking nervous. Changing was a long road, but he felt like Kurt actually meant what he said, and meaning it makes a world of difference.


End file.
